


Parable of the Two Kings

by Serbrethren



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Cults, Drinking, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fantasy, Female Antagonist, Female Protagonist, Fire, Gen, High Fantasy, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Protests, Religion, Riots, Warlocks, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serbrethren/pseuds/Serbrethren
Summary: A young witch named Elaine joins a religious/political activist group, but pressure from their leader causes her to act in morally dubious ways.
Kudos: 1





	Parable of the Two Kings

There was a windstorm that night.

A rush of frigid air had flown into my bedroom through the open window. I had hardly even opened it before the wind let itself in like an eager houseguest.

I shivered and put on my furs, snuffing out the candle near my desk before taking flight.

A drop of fifteen feet would have silenced other women of my age, but I bore more courage under my belt. I had wasted four years learning to land with the grace of a cherry blossom and I was not allowing it to go to waste.

After a clean fall, I immediately bounded toward the woodlands. The breeze shoved me towards my destination, as if it was as impatient I was to leave the house.

Several darkwood trees passed me by before I finally reached a moonlit clearing. In the middle of the plains, a wooden house.

I imagined a lovely adventuring couple who wished to construct a “vacation home” in a place with a gorgeous view, cool atmosphere, and was surrounded by vile, twisted creatures that could come out of the gnarled trees at any moment and tear apart the building. Perhaps that was part of the allure? The feeling of danger?

There was no other means to rationalize it, no one should’ve ever built a cabin here, and the fact that no one lives there anymore means the cabin was made long before my time or my theory proved true and it ended with resounding failure.

The coal black door loudly creaked open, the faint glow of some candles welcoming me inside.

From the dark, a woman’s voice spoke, “Come in, there’s a spot right next to the window.”

The faces of the apostles shone in the wavering candlelight, their eyes trailing me as I sat down, the wood groaning as I made myself comfortable.

“I have been blessed,” the woman began, “Now that Elaine has joined us, eight disciples sit around this hallowed circle.”

She produced a small canteen from her cloak and passed it to the boy one her right, “Drink of the scarlet water, let your own soul embody the will of Teth and Rengar.”

The boy gingerly sipped the canteen, reeling for a moment before passing it on. Each person drank and passed on before it finally reached me.

I clutched the container and cheered, “May Teth never rest until the kings are beheaded.” before downing the remainder of the canteen.

The fluid felt oily and thick, like I had just swallowed a slug. The cold concoction ran down my throat and tasted of a liquified carcass with a fragrance to match.

It took all of my willpower to hold down the supposed water, and when I looked up again I was rewarded with gentle applause and comfort from those around me. One of them massaged my back as I heaved while the other took the canteen and gave it back to our leader.

“Thank you for your bravery, Elaine.” She put the canteen away and clasped her hands together in a motion of prayer, “No kings, no walls, no shadows to be cast.”

I watched her stand up and move to one of the darker corners of the room, picking up what seemed like a bucket and splashing its contents along the walls and floor.

She cried, “Kings enslave men, men enslave beasts, beasts enslave those lesser!”

The room began to smell of gas as she finished her proclamation, “We are avenging the grove that was slaughtered to create this… this profane monument!”

She composed herself for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before picking up one of the candles, “My disciples, we’ve paid our dues to the corpse of this grove, now let us return it to the earth.”

The wisp of flame grazed the damp wall, creating a sheet of light that slowly began to spread onto the rest of the wall and the floor itself. The other apostles followed our leader’s example and conjured more sheets of fire.

That night, we watched as the house burned. Some of us sang, others simply watched as home turned to rubble, then rubble turned to ash.

All the while, our leader remained deep in prayer, her face etched with silent solemnity.

After about ten minutes passed, some of us began to talk as the building continued to burn. I had met one of the others before, a thin man with bright, red skin and a shaved head. Everyone else was unfamiliar to me, even the leader herself.

The man called himself Ian, and he struck up a conversation, “Not all of our meetups are like this, so sorry if this was a bit off-putting.”

“No, I had no issue with the ceremony.” I paused, “Although, I still have the taste of the scarlet water adorning my tongue.”

He cracked a smile, “Have you been to counsel before? Most of the time it’s like that.”

“I understand.” I turned to the building, “Do you think life will return to this clearing once the ashes settle?”

“We can’t be sure yet, but I’d like to think so.”

Several minutes passed as the house continued to be engulfed by fire.

“I never inquired about this, but what manner of activism are we engaging in?” I turned to Ian.

“Hm?” He turned to me, “I don’t think I get what you mean.”

I shook my head, “What sort of activities, how will we lift those who have been oppressed?”

Ian’s eyes moved back and forth between me and the bonfire before breaking into a chuckle, “I guess this does seem a little small-scale.”

He continued, “I think this kind of thing is personal for Adelaide. We normally form protest groups with elder communities and march in cities like Chassis or Ash’kan.”

“Not Theodyne?” I arched an eyebrow.

“Hell no.” He scoffed, “Read the news? If the paladins don’t get us first, it’ll be the locals.”

I frowned, “Are the stories truly as they say?”

I received only a somber nod, and that was the end of it.

~ஜ۩۞۩ஜ~

“I was impressed by your courage.” Adelaide congratulated as she walked towards me.

I scratched my head, “Was it truly courage? It simply felt proper of me.”

She smirked, “We are organizing a march that should take place a week from now, I would be honored if you joined us.”

Adelaide spoke softly, much more demure than when we were in the house. Her words put me at ease and felt almost motherly. I mulled over my own words for a few moments, uncertain how to respond to her request.

“I… I would be honored, myself.” I smiled and gave a brief bow in reverence.

She looked pleased, “That is wonderful news.” But after a moment, her face unchanged, she warned me, “Remember that there is always a chance these marches could turn towards violence. Remain cautious, I would hate to see another disciple of mine wounded or slain.”

I had not known that there was a body count.

“I-I will remain cautious.” I spoke, my nerves causing my own voice to stumble.

She put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “We’ll be alright. We are on the side of life, after all.”

I nodded.

“We will be meeting on Fifth Street in Theodyne’s market district one week from now at nine in the morning. Steel your courage.” Her hand removed itself from my icy shoulder and returned to her side.

I said nothing to her as she left, turning towards Ian instead, who was beginning to leave.

“Ian?”

“Yes?”

“You said our movement didn’t march in Theodyne.”

“I said we normally don’t, there are exceptions. Why bring it up?”

I looked at the grass at my feet, “She says we’ll be marching there next week.”

That appeared to confuse him, or at the very least it made him pause, “That’s odd.”

He seemed content with that remark, and didn’t add anything further to it. I was puzzled, “Is that not dangerous?”

“What’s most important is that we spread our message. It’s a long, winding road to equality but it’s one we must fight.”

“I suppose your point is valid.” I decided to let it go and gave him a courteous bow, “Good day, Ian, I will see you in a week.”

He waved farewell as I departed.

~ஜ۩۞۩ஜ~

I didn’t tell my mother nor my father about my excursion to the north, they would not have understood. I simply left in the morning and planned to return in three days.

The carriage was unstable, but the old soldier managed to carry us to Theodyne in a day and a half.

In that time I had found some reading material to keep me company. Stories of elder riots and the ensuing murder that resulted. There were names that I had become acquainted with, Teth the Graveturning, Rengar the Bull, Saint Death, all of them were dead heroes of elder society. The corpses of dead elders littered the streets in years past. Never a dead paladin.

It filled me with a righteous anger, one that subdued my fear of paying the ultimate price and prepared my body and soul for the war against those opulent spires.

“Theodyne is just a few miles from here.” The coach-driver spoke.

Speak of the stars and they shall fall, as they say.

A common man would look upon Theodyne and see progress, the white towers and imposing walls were as fortified as the paladins protecting them. Each of the walls had an iron gate that let coaches pass through, gates that groaned and labored upward with every turn of the crank. It often took a full minute for these gates to open, and even if someone wanted to force their way through, they would have to engage with the paladins.

They were on every corner of every brick-laden street, the sun reflecting off their silver swords could have blinded me if I were not more careful. Each one was statuesque and bore medals of honor from the Pietrarch himself. Some wore them with pride while others seemed apathetic. I couldn’t tell through any means except body language, as their helmets were bucket-like in nature and had a rather thin line for eyesight.

To a pietrarchan, all of these are signs of safety. But me? I was afraid. Afraid I would enter the city gates and be gutted like swine for my crimson robes. My family, meek as they were, badgered me to throw them out and pledge loyalty to Yohmeh as if I were serving the stars. I never threw them out, and I felt situations such as these called for them.

Pleasantly, my coach-driver did not seem bothered by my choice of clothing, and he brought me to the city’s wagon station without much issue. None of those in the city seemed outwardly bothered by my robes either. Perhaps they had not seen me in the chariot.

The inside of the city looked like paradise and stank of mold. I left my carriage and immediately a number of prying eyes were on me, if only for a moment. Most of what I caught resembled confusion and a twinge of annoyance, but none outwardly bothered me. Perhaps the decorum would’ve been ruined if they had done so.

It felt comforting to see others in the distance wearing robes like my own, some without robes wore dark clothing in opposition to the pristine streets of the city. Perhaps the robes would’ve been too much to pay for them, the gesture was appreciated regardless.

What surprised me most was seeing elders among the crowd. They were most likely to be slain and yet they stand, bold and unerring. I had simply dranken scarlet water.

Adelaide noticed me approaching and gave me a warm smile, “I’m pleased that you made it to the gathering.”

I blushed, “I am not accustomed to seeing so many like myself in one place.”

“Overwhelming, isn’t it?” She gazed at the others, “Our inner circle is but eight, yet our words touch nearly a hundred.”

A looming fear was festering in my heart, yet I could not help but be in awe of the magnitude of our gathering. Adelaide had a way with words, I surmised, to bring so many here.

The clanking of armored boots stirred that fear to a boil, A regiment of paladins blocked the way forward and prevented us from marching onward.

This experience made my blood rush, the feeling of being among a hundred others in such a narrow pathway, the threat of death, the inspiration I felt hearing the chants of other witches and warlocks, it was a brew so potent I felt I could faint.

But faint I did not, and slowly the paladins withdrew by inches, allowing us to march ever closer to the market.

The Theodyne market was a hotbed of atrocities, although many would simply assume it merely sold trinkets and exotic meats to curious pietrarchans. Perhaps I would not have minded so much had those trinkets and meats been crafted from the corpses of draconians and not fellow genesians.

To them it was all the same meat, all the same bones.

Already our march drove off some of the vendors from their stalls, and we hoped to reach the butcheries next. As we marched, I saw some of the previously apathetic citizens’ faces turn to scorn. A few people began to gather to see what the fuss was about, and they were not pleased.

“Elaine.” I heard Adelaide’s voice, soft as ever yet loud enough to overtake the chanting, “We should gift the market with Yohmeh’s flame, what do you say?”

My face turned sour, “I am not comfortable with that, my apologies.”

She frowned and turned back to the crowd, “Okay.”

I caught a glimpse of some paladins beyond the narrow walkways we were squeezing through, some of them had their swords on hand, a few were preparing spells, but my mind was on Adelaide.

The way our short dialogue concluded felt off to me. She sounded simultaneously cold and disappointed, like I had just tipped over an expensive vase that she planned to give to a family friend. I didn't quite understand why.

My stomach felt heavy at that moment, and I retracted my statement, “I suppose I could make an attempt.”

Her face melted into warmth, “Good, good. It may be a few before we reach the market proper, but it’s an unforgettable experience.”

“You have done this before?” I asked, then followed with, “Reaching the market and burning stalls, I mean.”

“Stalls?” She looked at me, puzzled, “I burn buildings, not stalls.”

I stayed quiet, so she continued, “I suppose I burn stalls too, but it is ultimately pointless to do so. They will be replaced tomorrow.”

My feelings of discomfort began to mount, but I did not retreat, “Then buildings it is.”

She seemed to approve of that response and looked forward, as did I.

A scream suddenly rang out, all the way up front, commotion began to buzz. A figure began to weave towards the back of the march with the help of two witches, a wounded man in black leather.

The leather’s black coloration had faded, revealing the brown beneath, some of the armor had been burnt through and the man himself had patches of skin that appeared rotten and molten. A strong chemical stench permeated the air as he passed, and one phrase began to ring from the front.

“Acid! They’re using acid!”

The world seemed to turn dark around me as more screams and wounded bodies began to pile up. I saw Adelaide with a look of horror on her face, quickly retreating towards the wounded while leaving me with the remainder of the crowd. There were about eighty left standing tall on that narrow path.

I turned to look at Adelaide, and I saw her using healing runes on some of the burnt. I looked forward, and the faceless paladins drew ever closer with more acid spells prepared.

Then some of our own began to cast spells.

One of the elders, I believed he was a satyr, began putting some of the paladins to sleep and was quickly doused with acid, sustaining the worst burns out of all of us before being pulled into the realm of the paladins, away from us. I never saw that satyr again.

While some of the paladins were busy chaining the satyr up, the other paladins broadened their focus to hit as many people with the acid splashes as possible while several of our warlocks began creating barriers.

Their rain fell upon our windows, and we were never drenched again.

The paladins took a step back, realizing the barriers they broke were simply being replaced with new ones, and seemed to retreat back into the greater market as we advanced.

From that narrow crevice we emerged like butterflies into the wide open, and many of us dispersed towards the dozens of stalls, often stealing meats and necklaces of bone.

I saw Adelaide coming back towards me. In a hushed voice, she spoke, “It’ll be a wonderful day of celebration, taking these profaned corpses and giving them proper burials.”

The paladins had begun to retreat, but I could hear whispers of reinforcements, so I summoned forth my athletics training to quickly loot what I could from the vendors.

Going to some of the stalls, I began to grab what packaged meats and baubles I could carry, producing an extra satchel I brought so I could carry more. I had accrued more than seventy pounds of elder corpses before I could carry no more.

It was a burden, in more ways than one.

Adelaide had already carried as much as she could and began throwing lit torches into nearby buildings. While she threw four torches, only two of them produced a meaningful blaze before the paladins came back with the cavalry in tow. I could see some of them wielding magic weapons, swords with cold, pale lights outlining their blades. A cold sweat went down my back and I evacuated the area.

The crowd began to retreat back as well and dispersed, leaving the paladins unfocused and chasing ghosts. The formerly pristine market was now scarred, the lifeblood of the bazaar drained and its skin both charred by flame and branded with symbols of rebellion.

I even threw a single torch through a broken window, although I am uncertain if it caused any manner of fire.

~ஜ۩۞۩ஜ~

I took the carriage back with the rest of the inner circle, all of us gleefully exchanging our feelings on the matter. Apparently Ian had helped carry one of the acid victims to Adelaide and I hadn’t even noticed.

We were driving to Bermudall, a politically neutral town where the burial was going to take place. All of us had satchels of flesh and bone and were eager to be rid of them.

The town didn’t bat an eye over our cloaks, more so the sudden arrival of a hundred outsiders. Still, they welcomed us wholeheartedly and served us the same brews as the pious.

I only drank on occasion, my parents did not provide me the freedom to choose my own beverages, and even on midnight excursions to the local Whitesberg taverns I smelled something foul in my drinks. The bartender was fond of his evil eye.

This was a new experience for me, washing down the foamy contents of my iron tankard and getting that buzzing sensation in my head. I wasn’t sure how I was feeling at the time, but according to what Adelaide told me the day after, I was the loudest in the room after several drinks.

After that, all I remembered were feelings and emotions, the feeling of camaraderie I felt with my fellow witches, the feeling of joy I felt when I saw those paladins being driven back, the feeling of relief when I came to this town and I felt like I belonged somewhere.

I don’t know if it was something in my heart or the booze in my gut, but I smiled harder that night than I ever did my entire life.

The only thing I had concretely remembered was that Adelaide wanted to tell me something the next day.

Admittedly, it was hard to stay focused on the burial that took place the morning after due to the splitting headache and complete lack of energy in my limbs. Regardless, I soldiered onward and we had a respectful burial. Some of the townsfolk even joined us.

It was what came afterwards that stuck with me most.

“Elaine.” Adelaide started the conversation, “Do you recall last night?”

I shook my head, unable to form a coherent response.

She didn’t seem to mind, “I was going to talk about your rite of passage into the inner circle.”

“Rite… Rite of passage?” I barely managed to forge the sentence as my head felt like it was splitting open.

With her voice as soft as ever, she smiled and spoke, “Sever your bonds with the first kings you ever knew.”

Even if I were lucid I wouldn’t have parsed that.

“Sever… Adelaide, I can’t… I can’t understand your riddles.”

She put that reassuring hand upon my shoulder once again, speaking slowly this time.

“Your mother, your father. Free yourselves from their influence, forevermore.”

My eyes widened slowly, and I backed away from her, letting her hand fall back to her side, “Are you… asking what I believe you are asking?”

“You sound troubled.” She said, unflinching in her position.

“I… I do not understand.” I began to stammer.

She sighed dreamily, “It is normal to be confused, Elaine. Years of propaganda have taught you to believe that what I say is insanity.”

Adelaide continued, “Humans were biologically designed to act as guides to their children, not as prison wardens. The act of parenting in the modern era is toxic to both the adult and their child.”

“What in the king’s name are you saying?” I began to regain my composure.

She snapped, “Not a king!” She paused, “Call him a savior.” Adelaide sounded personally insulted by me referring to the Millennium King as… a king.

“I… I still do not know where you are coming from… on any of these fronts.”

She subdued herself and continued, “It’s alright, it’s alright. I simply wish for you to let go of your vices and become one of us officially.”

“You mean…” I began to connect the dots, “The others did this as well?”

She chuckled, “Of course they did. They found new family in us.”

“New family.” I hung onto that word, mulled over it.

“I… I will think on the matter.” I whispered, “This is a great burden to ask of me.”

She smiled, “If you refuse to do so, then I’ll regretfully have to excuse you from our group, and I would hate to do that.”

I felt that pit in my stomach again.

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

~ஜ۩۞۩ஜ~

When I returned home my parents scolded me, they chastised me, first and foremost, about leaving without so much as a word. They wanted to know where I had gone, and why I had left so abruptly. A few minutes later they told me of a fire that broke out in Theodyne, and how unruly and savage the warlocks and the “eldritch” had been, disrupting the peace in such a manner.

Like I said, they wouldn’t understand.

That night I had found an old knife in my kitchen drawer. Worn with age, still sharp enough to cut through muscle.

I stood over my father’s bed for at least an hour, he never moved once.

It would’ve been so easy.

Despite standing still for that hour, I never rested, nor did I ever move. My mind was wracked with a swirling typhoon of dangerous thoughts, things I couldn’t possibly grasp the consequences of.

I thought about courage, and what courage meant. I was courageous for drinking that scarlet water, for standing with those protestors, I wondered if Adelaide would call me courageous for this act.

I thought about the others, and how they’d feel. They were in on it already, and they would’ve accepted me with open arms, celebrating this murder like it was my birthday. A full day of revelry. I hadn’t known the inner circle for more than two weeks and they made me feel more welcome than this household ever did.

I hated this feeling. It felt like I was justifying murder for people I had just met. Maybe those feelings of shame were ingrained in my psyche too?

I thought about my parents, and who they were, if it was worth going against myself to kill them. Moderately pious folk who always seemed concerned about me, or at least what I was doing. Seeing as they forced me to do things I never wanted to do, I wasn’t sure how much they cared about me.

Forced? Did they force me to do anything? Perhaps I just felt afraid that they would be disappointed in me if I refused what they asked of me.

The knife was shaking in my hands, I desperately wanted a concrete answer to a problem with no solutions, but my mind was determined to try.

Did they love me? I do not know. Some days they did, other days they did not. They never made it clear how they felt about me.

Then again, I never made my own feelings clear either. I always followed what they asked of me on paper. I did my four years penance in the athletics camp, I disposed of my robes, I stopped dabbling in witchcraft, at least as far as they knew.

In truth, I kept my robes, I was always studying the stars, therefore I was never obedient. I never opened my heart to them, they never opened theirs to me. What was stopping me?

They spoke of heresy, of the witches. They had never liked the covens or the rituals, and they always seemed to talk about them. But I was their daughter, their flesh and blood. What if I told them I was a witch? Would that change anything? I never even tried, why? Surely some kind of answer is better than knowing nothing at all?

I imagined a beast, one that lived in my stomach. It tossed and turned endlessly whenever I felt like someone was disappointed in me. I always fed that beast, kept it quiet and content when it acted up.

That beast has been residing within me for years. It’s the beast that locked me in a prison for four years, the beast that made me hide myself from my parents, the beast that drank that putrid, rotten blood vial, the beast that burned down a building, and the beast that was about to kill her own father.

“What are you doing, Elaine?”

I heard a familiar, soft voice in my head. It was Adelaide.

“Your resolve is stunning, but you continue to hesitate. I want to see the kings beheaded.”

To her, I was a usurper. Two kings laid before me; I didn’t know anything about either of them and neither knew a thing about me. We were strangers, strangers who lived in the same home for nineteen years.

Adelaide made the ordeal seem as if I was becoming my own emperor, but I would simply be running to a new master, one I now know is crueller than those I knew.

No, no, no.

This way I’m looking at her, at my parents, at everything… it’s poisonous.

There are no kings, no emperors, no masters.

My parents are my parents.

Adelaide is Adelaide.

And I am not a murderer.

In that moment, I took my first step into the unknown. I knew not what my parents would think of me, nor did I know if I would ever feel the same way I did just a few nights ago at that tavern. I had stepped out of the shadows of my parents and Adelaide herself, and now, more than ever, I felt alone.

It felt comforting.

The smell of smoke began to waft upwards, and I knew what I had to do.

“Father, wake up! The house is on fire!”

~ஜ۩۞۩ஜ~

We stayed at an inn for several weeks before my father found a new cabin to live in. He seemed so thankful that we all managed to get out of the burning building safely.

They both embraced me, in tears. Confused, but happy that I was safe. I hugged them in return.

I showed them the book I still had on me, the robes I wore. It goes without saying that they weren’t ecstatic. Even less so when they learned why the fire happened in the first place.

Regardless, we started to eat dinner together, we went to community events, even engaged in athletics. Day by day I learned more about them and their own lives.

They never discussed my profession, and I never discussed their prejudice. I was content with that.

I never saw Adelaide again, but I never stopped marching. I was just one of many, but I grew acquainted with some protestors I met throughout my years of activism and felt like I could share my love of witchcraft with them.

I never killed a man, nor did I burn anymore buildings. I was quick to condemn those actions while talking with my friends and some would argue with me over it. It was how I felt, and I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

Just a few weeks ago I was going to that same bar in Bermudall, I had a couple drinks and I saw Ian again.

We didn’t talk much, we just had a few drinks and engaged in small talk. He told me he quit the inner circle a year prior, and he was now a destitute. I offered him to stay at my home near Locksbane for a few weeks but he politely declined, downing one last glass of whiskey before departing from the tavern.

I remembered finishing my own drink and leaving the tavern. The moonlit night and the gnarled trees made me nostalgic of that house in those dark woods so many years ago. I looked around for any sign of Ian before leaving the tavern for home.

I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.


End file.
